Blind To Be
by The Endless Hourglass
Summary: An 'accident.' That's what Justin Finch-Fletchley's mother called that horrible day. Justin didn't believe it was, though. He was the one who made the car go with his thoughts. He was the one who killed his sister. An escape. That's all Justin was asking for. However, he was blinded, for there is no way to escape the past.


Justin Finch-Fletchley was a nasty prat of a boy at nine years of age. Though behaved around his mother - because _no one _wanted to mess with someone as strict and controlling as her - he had long since decided that he could do what he wanted around his other relatives and receive anything he desired as long as he screamed loud and long enough.

Teachers were included in this, for at school he was the worst type of bully. He preyed on the nerdy and geeky students, and since no student had the nerve to tell on the high-classed Finch-Fletchley heir, nothing was done.

At home, however, he was not treated as royalty. Justin's mother had other things on her mind, like work and Justin's younger sister. The sister - barely five - had become his mother's most important priority. Could he go out to the park? No, Kendra needed a nap. Could he play with his toys in the living room? No, Kendra wanted to play with her toys in the living room. Could he have a story read to him? No, Kendra asked to have a story read to her, and it was too late for him.

Justin was always envious, which was why he liked school. He had power there - he could make kids do what he wanted and play with the things he wanted to play with. And since his family was of a higher class, none of the unpopular students would tell on him, and all of the popular kids wouldn't dare defy him.

One day, his mother had decided to take Justin and his sister to a distant relative. This relative was closely bonded to Justin's mother, and so they left in a rush. Only later did Justin's mother realize that she'd forgotten to take a few groceries that she was going to bring so that she could help make lunch for that important relative.

So his mother stopped by a store and told them to stay in since it was quite cold outside. She made sure that the car was warm enough, but also cool enough, for the two young children to stay there. She also made sure to park near the door so that if anything went wrong, they could just look for her. It wasn't like she was going to be gone long, so it made sense.

However, similar to most situations, Justin's mother was forgetful, and because of that, she left the engine running. She wasn't stupid or idiotic, she just had her mind set on one thing and one thing only. Multitasking just wasn't her thing. And she even did it for a good reason - to keep the heater on for the children.

Then, Justin's mother left him and Kendra in the back seat. Kendra was squirming in her carseat, begging to get out, while Justin just sat in the seat to her right, smugly watching as his sister was contained to the spot she was.

Justin suddenly remembered the candy his mother had put in the glove box. She usually put it there so that when they were good, she could give them a reward. With that thought, the boy quickly climbed over the center console and into the passenger seat. He opened the glove box after some much needed effort, and he soon began eating all the candy he could.

While Justin was eating, he looked at the steering wheel and thought, _Someday, _I'll _have a nice car like this. _He always liked cars - it was something he found interesting ever since his mother got him a toy similar to them back when he was five. He didn't remember much of it, only that it was his favorite toy, and so he'd ask for a new one every Christmas.

Curiously, Justin climbed into the drivers seat and pretended that he was driving. Only, he couldn't reach the pedals with his short legs. He felt the tires switching direction, though, and it made him grin with glee.

The boy glanced over to the road after that. It was a busy street, and the cars were going pretty fast. He smirked as he saw a very slow car causing traffic as it tried to get to the stop light. _I bet my car can go faster, _he thought. Justin's eyes looked back to the steering wheel. He imagined himself driving on that same road, as fast as he could, beating all the cars to the red light. He imagined the feeling of the car humming below him and listening to the tires screeching off, racing through the street.

A sudden jerk distracted Justin from his daydream. Soon after, he realized he was driving full speed toward the road he had just dreamed himself to be on. With wide eyes he let go of the steering wheel, hoping the car would stop. But it wouldn't.

"Stop! Stop! Stop!" Justin screamed. However, the car wouldn't screech to a halt like he wanted. It just kept going. Justin clutched his seat as hard as he could, still shrieking out 'stop.' He heard sobbing from behind him, and his heart began pounding louder.

_No! _he thought, his eyes wide. _Kendra! _

They went over the landscape that separated the parking lot and the road, and with a screech from the tires of many other cars, Justin closed his eyes and curled up into a small ball. Just as he did, though, the car was thrown to the left, and as Justin peeked, he could only see jagged movements as he felt himself being thrown around in his seat.

When the movements stopped, Justin's shoulder throbbed, and his head seemed to be exploding on the inside. He could see bright red flashing lights very distantly, but as he tried to focus on them, everything went black.

He couldn't feel the pain at first. He couldn't say anything or hear anything either. Justin had a hunch that he had blacked out, but he didn't want it to be true. He didn't want any of it to be true. He let his stubbornness take over, and he willed himself to stay asleep.

Of course that didn't work.

Justin woke feeling numb, but he could hear talking. Well, if an unfamiliar man in a white suit talking so quietly that the nine year old could barely hear him evev _counted_ as talking. It was so hard to listen to that man. However, there was one other sound in the room, and the boy knew enough about his mother to know that he never wanted to hear the sound again.

". . .it won't mend for at least two months."

"A-at le-east te-ell me he-e's go-oing-g to be-e ok-kay," Justin's mother cried. If he could move, he knew he would. But he didn't dare try, for if he did, his body would only listen to him with painful, restricting movements.

"We won't know for sure," came the doctor's calm voice. Justin hated how at ease the man seemed to be. The boy's mother was _crying, _and his mother _didn't cry_. Ever. She was too strong to cry. Well, usually.

Thankfully, the doctor left, and as Justin felt his mother's warm hand on his, he felt his stomach relax. He started to feel more things as he did, though. His sides ached, his right arm and shoulder were tightly wrapped in bandages, and his legs felt distant, as if they weren't even his.

"Mu-um?" Justin asked. His voice was unfamiliar to him - dark and hollow.

"Ye-es, Justin?" his mother asked. She had sat up in her chair and allowed her dark brown eyes to look straight into his. He squeezed her hand tighter as he saw her red cheeks and swollen eyelids.

He wanted to bombarde his mother with questions. What happened? Did she blame him? Was she okay? Was he going to be fine? Were the people in the other car alive? But one question stood out above the others, one he didn't think he'd ever ask.

"Where is Kendra?"

At the sound of his little sister's name, his mother choked back another sob. She let go of his hand and covered her face with her palms. She moaned, and though Justin knew in his heart what had gone wrong, he felt the need to confirm his suspicions.

"Is she. . .g-gone?" Justin asked. _The last word has many meanings_, he tried to tell himself. _She could be in a coma, just ready to wake up. She could be in another hospital getting special treatment. She could be with another relative, staying there because mum doesn't trust me with her any more. She could be - _

"Oh, Justin," his mother cried softly. After a few moments, she continued, "She was hurt so badly. . .She died just last night. . ." Justin tried hard not to cry, but he was too tired to try and reign in the emotion he was feeling. He felt tears well into his eyes and seep down his cheeks - warming them.

_Why do I feel so sad? _he asked himself. _Kendra got everything, and now _I'll _get everything. But. . .she was my sister. I _killed _her. I. . .I made her go away. . . _Those thoughts made his tears come faster.

"Mum. . ." he murmured. "I'm so. . .so sorry. . .I didn't mean. . . I didn't _want _for this to happen. I was just - having fun. . .I was just thinking about racing the car, like with my toys. . .I didn't want for the car to go forward, I -"

"Shh. . ." his mother soothed. She smiled. It wasn't her normal smile - though Justin rarely saw that. It was bleak, and very weak, but it was a smile, and it was as warm as her hand. "Don't think about that right now. Just focus on getting better."

"Am I - am I going to get better?" Justin asked, his heart pounding once more. His mother hesitated.

"Yes," she said, her voice stronger than before. "You _will _get better. Just like when you scraped your hand on those rocks, remember?" Justin nodded obediently. He remembered. He knew.

His mother kissed his head and began to speak to Justin about other things. She explained how the two of them would go on a train to see the landscape like they did every year. She explained how the two of them would go to his favorite restaurant and eat his favorite food. She explained how the two of them would go to the zoo and see those monkeys that he always liked looking at.

But that was the problem - it was just the two of them.

As the days passed, he laid in the hospital room thinking of his sister. Justin knew that his mother was probably right, and he had just slipped and pushed on the pedal or something. However, his memories kept replaying the moment before the car surged forward. Justin hadn't been standing on the pedal - he had been sitting in the chair with his hands on the wheel.

Justin didn't think about that moment for too long. After all, he'd discovered that crying was exhausting - mentally _and_ physically. But even though he didn't think of that instant, he still murmured softly about his stupidity. His mother still insisted that it was her fault, but he knew that, he had been thinking intelligently, he would have remembered that Kendra was in the car before he climbed into the driver's seat, and nothing would have happened.

_Or would it? _Justin asked himself. _Would I have cared that she was in the car? _That was another thought that bothered him. He never got to know his sister, and that wasn't her fault. It was his. _He _was the one who pushed her away because of jealousy. _He _was the one who decided she was a brat because she got everything she wanted.

_Do I deserve this? _Justin thought as he remembered the people he bullied when he was at school. _Did I deserve killing my sister and making my mother cry? Do I deserve this pain? _

After a few months, his thoughts were jumbled and not very neat at all. It was too much for him. Justin had long since decided that, if he didn't talk, no one would suspect him of being weak or scared or sad, and they wouldn't ask him questions. At night, however, he let himself cry. He kept quiet so that no one would hear him, but he made sure to let his emotions flow freely. It eventually came to the point that he barely got any sleep at all, for the nightmares of that day kept him from closing his swollen eyes.

Finally, after three and a half months, the doctors announced Justin could go home. His mother was thrilled, but the young boy still wasn't. He tried to smile for the doctors and for his mother. He tried to reassure her he was happy. She needed that after what she'd been through. But it was hard. Very hard.

Through the years, Justin picked up on small things about the 'accident' that he hadn't noticed before. His mother had been blamed, and because of that the family's high class had been reduced to a very low level. The family in the car that he had hit had suffered shock and mostly minor injuries, though he heard something about how one them had received a permanent, painful reminder of that day.

At school, Justin had become invisible. He didn't talk much anymore, and because of his family's new, horrible reputation - well, _his _horrible reputation - kids whispered behind his back and gave odd looks to him. One of the boys even took to bullying him because of his 'weak look.' They had become another nightmare of his after long.

Three years had passed. Justin had turned eleven. It was the middle of July, and though his mother was looking for schools, he didn't feel ready. He would never be ready to go back. Even after almost three years, the kids still spoke about him. Not all of them - most had forgotten about the incident. The bullies never would, though.

Justin would always remember, and he would always blame himself. He understood more now, and though he knew why his mother would blame herself, he also knew that even if he _had _stepped on the pedals accidentally while he had been day dreaming, it was he himself who hadn't paid attention to what he was doing in the drivers seat of a car that had the engine running.

Justin had come to spend most of his time in his room. He wasn't playing with cars anymore - he had thrown all of those toys away while his mother wasn't looking. Instead, he was reading, drawing, or writing. Though very artistic and unrealistic for most boys he knew, it calmed him for one reason or another. And so, because it took him so much effort to be calm on a normal basis, he chose to continue doing those things.

Naturally, that's where Justin was that strange Saturday afternoon. He was halfway through reading a fiction book he remembered finishing two times before, when he had been interrupted by a call he hadn't heard in years.

"Justin!" his mother called from downstairs. "There's a someone here to see you!" Justin's initial thought was, _who would be here to see _me _of all people? _Though he thought hard, he couldn't think of anyone but those therapists. _But I stopped seeing them a long time ago. . . _And so, if not only for his inborn curiosity, Justin put down his book, got up from his bed, and made the long trek through the hallway and down the stairs.

They had lost a lot of things after the 'accident.' After all, if you counted up his hospital bills, the bills for the irreparable cars, and the hospital bills for the other family, the numbers were insane. But his mother kept the house. They lived without a car for a long while, and she had to work a lot harder and longer, but for some reason, she really wanted to keep the house.

When Justin finally made it to the living room, he stopped and gazed at the woman in which had apparently come to see him. The woman was sitting, and though dressed in normal clothing, she didn't seem too content on wearing them. But there was no distaste in her green eyes. Actually, there was more of a soothing look to her, even though it was quite plain she was there for a mission, not an afternoon gathering.

"You wanted to see me?" Justin asked.

"Oh, why yes," the woman told her. "Have a seat - it would be impolite for you to stand there the whole time." Justin did as told without wondering why. It was something he often did, for he had learned how to obey. Although that might have also had something to do with his mother's strict behavior.

That's when Justin noticed his mother sitting right beside him. It was just before she asked, "Is it rude to ask why someone unfamiliar - like you - has asked to see my son?" Even though his mother was normally this straightforward, Justin shied away from the. . ._demanding _question. She had been quite protective lately.

"Of course not, Mrs. Finch-Fletchley," the woman answered smoothly, obviously missing the hint of sharpness in his mother's voice. "My name is Minerva McGonagall - Professor, if you please - and I teach at a boarding school in Scotland. I have asked to see your son because I have been given the duty to explain to you of what this school offers for someone like him." Justin's shifted uneasily as he felt his mother tense beside him.

"Someone like me?" Justin repeated. "Is there something wrong with me, then?" A lot of people teased him about that at school because of how different he was. The bullies even went as far to mention that it was because of the 'accident.'

"Wrong? No, no," Professor McGonagall reassured him. "You are _different. _You can do things most kids cannot." Justin's confusion grew.

"Like what?" he asked.

"Has anything abnormal ever happened to you?" Professor McGonagall asked. "Anything that was too hard to explain logically, or too strange to be normal?" Justin thought, trying to keep his mind away from the obvious answer. There were several times that he did odd things, but still, the 'accident' was the one that appeared in his memories more frequently when he thought over the professor's question.

His gaze dropped to the table as he asked, "Is this some kind of joke? Are you here to make fun of me like the kids at school?"

"No," Professor McGonagall said, her voice coated with unknowingness. "Why would an adult like me do that to you, an eleven year old boy?"

"There was an accident a few years ago," Justin's mother explained. "and Justin believed, at first, that he made it happen simply by thinking of it."

"I am sorry," Professor McGonagall told them. "But that is exactly the type of event I was talking about. You see, you are not normal, Mr. Finch-Fletchley. You have the ability that only few people like yourself possess." Justin looked up to meet her eyes. "Magic."

If Justin had discovered this when he was a nine year old, he might have immediately asked for proof and then argued with the woman. After all, his mother had been very stern when it came to believing in nonsense. But now, as he put the pieces together, he discovered that if this were true - which he wasn't going to say it was yet - then the 'accident' _was_ his fault. He magically made the car go. He did it.

However, magic didn't exist.

"I assume that you do not believe me," Professor McGonagall announced after a few minutes. "That is quite normal. Allow me tol demonstrate it for you." The elder woman took out a long, polished stick and pointed it toward a cup of water Justin's mother had set out for her. She said a few words that the boy couldn't make out, and the cup turned into a beautiful, icy bird. It was about a foot tall and it was completely white. Justin was hypnotised. After a minute or two, the elder woman changed it back into a cup of water.

"That's impossible," he heard his mother whisper. She shifted her gaze to Professor McGonagall, and with a louder voice, she continued, "That isn't real! That's a trick!"

"No, it isn't a trick, Mrs. Finch-Fletchley," Professor McGonagall said firmly, taking out a sealed letter from her pocket. "This is for you, Mr. Finch-Fletchley." Justin took the letter with shaking hands and read it carefully.

He paused when the letter said, 'accepted into Hogwarts School Of Witchcraft and Wizardry.' _But this could just be written to make this person laugh more when I fall for it, _Justin thought. The letter, though, kept going on about the school. In another piece of parchment came a list of school items, all of which he was sure weren't used in normal schools.

"No. . ." Justin's mother said softly. "It can't be true. . ." Justin looked at his mother, and his eyes widened when he noticed the familiar sniff and the reddening eyes that his mother gave before she cried.

"I understand that it is a lot to take in," Professor McGonagall told her. "But this letter is only given to muggles - non-magical folk like yourself - rarely. You should be proud."

"Proud?" His mother asked, her voice heightening to a tone Justin flinched at. "_Proud? _That _magic _is dangerous! Do you know what it did to my daughter? Do you know what it did to my _son_?"

"No, Mrs. Finch-Fletchley, but it is very important to learn more about his -"

"Get out!" Justin's mother screamed. The boy cringed as his mother stood and pointed toward the door. "I will not stand for this - this _trickery! _No, _mockery! _Get out!" Professor McGonagall stood immediately, but she didn't seem too thrilled to leave.

"Now, now, think about this rationally," Professor McGonagall said firmly. "Think about your son - he needs to learn."

"Over my dead body!" Justin's mother shrieked. "Justin has been through enough thanks to your _magic, _and I won't let him go through it again!"

"But - madam -" Professor McGonagall began as she moved toward the door. "If he doesn't learn how to use magic, more accidents will happen -"

"Get out!" his mother screamed. "Get out, or I will call the police!" Professor McGonagall sighed.

"Very well," she said. "If that is what you wish. If you decide that you do want him to go, though, be sure to shout out 'lemon drop,' if you please. I will come." And so, with that, the elder woman turned and walked right out the door. Justin's mother continued standing where she did, though, breathing heavily after screaming for so long.

However, after a few moments, she turned on her heel, and with wild eyes, she ordered, "Give me that letter, Justin." Her voice wasn't soothing, warm, or even hers anymore. It was different, and though he knew he probably should have just done as he was told, he didn't.

"But, mum, can't I -" he started. He didn't know why he wanted to protect the letter, but something felt right about it.

"Give it to me," she ordered again. She began walking toward him with her crazed eyes, and in that moment Justin realized she would pry it out of his hands if need be. And so, to keep the letter safe, Justin ran back upstairs and toward his room, aware of his mother trailing close behind him.

When Justin got to his room, he slammed the door shut and locked it before putting his letter safely in his desk. He heard his mother crash into his door moments later, and he watched as his door knob jiggled.

"Open this door!" his mother shrieked. "Open it right now, or so help me -" Justin stood in the back corner of his room and sat down. He hugged his knees and prayed that his mother wouldn't find a way to open that door. If she did, she would destroy the letter and he would be punished by words, and then he would get his books and parchment taken away.

For a whole hour, Justin knew his mother was trying to open his door. The second hour she just seemed to be waiting. In the third hour, Justin fell asleep in the corner. When he woke up, he found that it was dark outside. Glancing at his clock, he realized that he had been in the room for over seven hours.

Cautiously, Justin stood and walked over his door before carefully opening it. He found his mother slumped up against the wall, sleeping soundly. He could see tear stains on her cheeks, though, and her eyes were swollen again.

Justin closed his door, and as he did, his mother's eyes swung open. The boy flinched, jumping back in fear that his mother would do something. But he knew she wouldn't - that look in her eyes was gone. He would be okay.

But his mother noticed his movement and began crying again. Her sobs were very loud, and when she started speaking, Justin barely understood her.

"Oh, Justin, what have I done?" she asked. "You're scared of me. . .your own mother. . ."

"I'm not scared," Justin said as she finished. "I - er - I just didn't know what you would do." His mother smiled bleakly.

"Thank you for trying to cover up my mistake, sweetie," his mother said softly. "You don't deserve someone like me." Justin kneeled down to get on his mother's level.

"Yeah, I do," he told his mother calmly. "Mum, you're the strongest person I know. You're just. . .shaken. And I am too. We've just got to get through this." His mother continued smiling.

"You've always been so patient. . ." his mother whispered to him. "I'm sorry, Justin. . .will you forgive me? I. . .I really don't know what got into me. . ." Justin nodded, trying to give her a reassuring smile.

"Of course I will, mum," he said. "And nothing got into you. . .You just remembered. It's okay to be angry sometimes."

"And you, my son, would know what this feels like," she said to him. Her glassy eyes look up at him with a certain vulnerability that Justin had never seen before. It made him feel protective, and he wanted so badly to make her happier. "You have been through so much Justin. . .You are so much wiser than you seem. Come here." She spread her arms out, asking for a hug. Justin took the offer and embraced his mother as much as he could.

"I destroyed the letter, mum," he lied. "I ripped it into small pieces and threw it out the window."

"You didn't have to do that, sweetie," his mother whispered into his ear. They still didn't let each other out of the embrace.

"Yes I did," he responded. "That school doesn't need me, and I don't need another reminder."

But, as the days went on, Justin thought about the school more and more. He read fantasy books about magic, and he read history books about the witches being burned. Justin began to imagine what it would be like to be able to do the things they did, and soon, he began yearning to be in a place like Hogwarts.

After two weeks, Justin decided to reintroduce the idea. So, while he and his mother ate in silence, he took a deep breath in and said, "Er, mum?"

"Yes, dear?" she asked. Her gaze met his.

"Um, I was thinking. . ." he murmured. "Maybe, since Eton is so expensive, and we don't have that much money, maybe it would be okay if, erm, maybe I could go to another school. . ." His mother tensed.

"Which one do you have in mind, Justin?" she asked.

"Um. . ." he paused. "Well, I was kind of thinking of the one that Professor gave us the acceptance letter to. . ." His mother stared at him, and this made him squirm in his chair.

"No," she said firmly.

"But -" he began.

"Wasn't it you who said that you didn't want another reminder?" she asked.

"I'll always have a reminder, whether it be the kids at school or the magic I'm using," he pointed out.

"You said you threw away the acceptance letter," she growled. Justin ducked his head.

"I - I didn't. . ." he corrected her.

"And why would you lie to me?" his mother asked. "Why would you lie at a time like that?"

"I didn't want you to destroy the letter, and I didn't want you to keep crying," he answered quickly. Her eyes narrowed tightly.

"It's still a no," she hissed. "You will go to Eton like we planned." Justin sighed.

"Mum -"

"Justin, I thought you knew why you couldn't go," she snapped. "I thought you realized how dangerous magic is, and how easily you could get hurt."

"Yeah, but I was thinking, if it was dangerous, then why would they have a school full of kids like me?" Justin asked. "There has to be some safety measures -"

"We don't know for sure, and therefore you aren't going," his mother said firmly. "End of discussion."

"You aren't being fair," Justin argued. "The school could do a lot for me -"

"No, it can't," she snapped. "Now finish your dinner before it gets cold."

"But mum, you don't understand -"

"_What _don't I understand?" his mother asked sharply.

"You don't understand how much this school could change me," Justin began.

"Change you in the wrong why?" his mother asked. "Yes, I do."

"No, for the better," Justin argued back, his eyes narrowed.

"How on earth could a school like that change you for the better?" his mother asked. "All I see it doing to you is making you use dangerous energy that could possibly kill you or give you something else to be blamed for."

"Mum, would you rather me go to a school full of people I already know will bully me, or a school with new people, new material, and new ways to help me control my ability?"

"My answer is no, Justin," his mother said sternly. "That's my final word." Justin clenched his hands and looked at his plate. He wanted to go so badly, but his mother was who he had to listen to. _She _was the one who took care of him for eleven years so _she _was the one who get a say in his education.

"Mum, I know you heard what Professor McGonagall said," he murmured. "This school could help me _control _magic so that another 'accident' won't happen again."

"Nothing else like that will ever happen if you concentrate hard enough," his mother argued. He looked up to meet her eyes again.

"But what if it does?" he asked. "What if I accidentally kill someone at my school next time, or you? I don't want to live like that again, mum." His mother paused, and he could tell that whatever he said was working.

"You didn't kill anyone," his mother muttered. "And accidents can happen anywhere, even at that school."

"But they must have protection against that!" Justin reminded her. "They know what I can do, and what others can do, and so they must make sure that it doesn't happen! And. . .and this school could be filled with other people like me, who've gone through the same thing."

"Now you listen to me, Justin," his mother said, her voice darkening. "I don't care what fantasies you've had about this school, you are not going. I won't see my son die over a simple mistake. You are going to be _normal, _do you hear me?"

"But how can I be normal now?" Justin asked. "Face it, mum, I'll never be normal at Eton. Everyone will still make fun of me for killing my sister, and I'll always be the shut-in who doesn't speak to anybody. At Hogwarts, I could be normal. At Hogwarts, I could be with other people who know what it's like to use magic on accident. I'll be normal _there, _not at Eton." His mother remained quiet.

"Explain to me," his mother began. "why you want to venture into something that you know is dangerous. Explain to me why you want to even use your ability after your sister died in that accident."

"Magic can't be all bad if they're letting eleven year olds practice it," Justin reminded his mother. "You saw Professor McGonagall do that thing with that cup. There must be a whole class dedicated to turning objects into other objects, and that's just the half of it! What about levitating and teleporting, and -"

"You've been reading those books about magic, haven't you?" Justin's mother interrupted him. He nodded. "I should have known why you were asking for them."

"Mum, please!" Justin begged.

"No," she said.

"I'll do anything!" he promised. "I'll write you every week, and when I come back for holidays I'll do all I can around the house! I'll - I'll even promise to keep up my other studies!" His mother stared at him with narrowed eyes. She did this for at least two minutes.

"I've never seen you so eager for something," his mother commented.

"Mum, I haven't had a friend in the world since the 'accident' and I've never been able to fit in," he claimed. "I've been blaming myself for almost three years, and I'm sick of it. But if I go to Hogwarts, I might actually have friends who share my problems! I could learn how to control the magic, and I maybe, even if it takes as many years as it would to finish that education, I could forgive myself."

"So what am _I _to you?" his mother asked. "Don't I share your 'problems?'"

"Mum, that's not what I meant," Justin said. "You do share my problems, but. . . I don't know. I don't know why it's different, but it is! I want to have friends, someone I can relate to. It has been so long since I've actually talked with someone my own age for more than two days in a row."

"You've always told me that you're fine at school," his mother reminded him.

"I was when you asked me," Justin responded. "I didn't mind being alone. But now that I've thought about it. . .It just feels right." His mother shifted in her spot. Justin prayed as hard as he could that she would allow him to go, and he found that his muscles were hurting because of how hard he was clutching his chair.

"Even if I were to possibly allow you to go, how would you even send that letter to that Professor?" his mother asked. "We haven't got any magical owls around." Justin perked up.

"We just have to shout out those two words, remember?" Justin reminded his mother, trying to suppress an eager grin. "And then she will come and send the letter to Hogwarts for us." His mother stared at him.

Justin had to admit that his mother was stubborn. He had to admit that his mother hardly gave in to anything thrown at her. After that day that Professor McGonogall came over, Justin wasn't so sure that the conversation would even get that far. But it did, and because of that, he was hopeful.

"I will let you go -" his mother began.

"Yes!" Justin said out loud.

"- on the condition that you do as you said you would, and only if Professor McGonagall explains to me what safety measures they use at the school." Justin nodded eagerly.

"Should I do it right now?" he asked.

"Tomorrow morning," his mother argued. "You have to get to ready for bed right now."

The next day had been exciting for young Justin, and though kind of boring because of all the questions his mother asked, he had finally felt happy when he began learning of all the fun things to do at Hogwarts. His mother had been convinced that it was safe, and so McGonagall took the letter of enrollment herself, leaving with a quick, "I hope to see you thriving at Hogwarts soon."

Justin bought his supplies at a place called Diagon Alley with McGonagall two weeks later. He made sure to get an owl so that he could carry out his mother's wishes, and - without thinking much of it - he called her Kendra. It seemed fitting for the light brown female owl.

The best part of the trip was getting his wand. It was a peculiar and dangerous way to pick a wand, and he was quite certain he would never tell his mother about it. Nevertheless, he was happy with his dragon-heartstring, willow wand. He forgot how many inches it was, though Ollivander, the wand maker, didn't seem to shocked by it, so it must not have been too important.

On September 1st, after discovering how to get onto the platform thanks to two people with the last name of Diggory, Justin felt like a normal eleven year old. Not because he was finally surrounded by other people like him, but because he was excited about something. It had been so long since something _different _and _strange _had happened to him that he forgot the feeling of facing the unknown.

Once he was on the train to Hogwarts and in an empty compartment, he felt too eager to fall asleep, so he took out a muggle - he'd come to love using that word - book and read it intently. He'd pretty much finished his school textbooks, so it was the only thing left he had to read.

About two minutes and two pages later, his compartment door opened. He suspected to see an older student asking him to leave, but he didn't. He saw someone about his age and, shockingly, the boy was vaguely familiar. He had untidy black hair, round glasses, and a scar peaking out from under his hairline.

"Can I sit here? Everywhere else is full," the boy claimed. Justin gave a firm nod and watched the boy close the door behind him before sitting down in a seat on the other side of the compartment. Now that he was closer, Justin noticed that the boy was actually quite skinny, which surprised him.

They sat in silence for a few moments, as if confused as to what to do next, before Harry said, "My name is Harry Potter." Justin - having not heard those words in such a friendly matter for a few years - couldn't decide how to respond.

"Er, my name is Justin Finch-Fletchley," Justin responded. Then he added quickly, "N-nice to meet you." Harry nodded, and another silence came between him. _We both don't know how to start conversations too well, _Justin thought. His eyes suddenly found a dark line that started right above Harry's eye and went down to his cheek bone. It was short, though - after Justin discovered it was a scar - he noticed that it must have been years old.

"What happened there?" Justin asked, pointing to it. Immediately afterward, however, he figured out that there was probably a better way to word that sentence. "S-sorry! Argh. . .That was rude, isn't it?" Harry shook his head.

"I don't mind," he replied. "I got the scar in a car crash. I was only nine, so I don't remember much about it, but I remember my aunt and uncle weren't too happy about it because. . .well, I can't see out of that eye hardly at all. I think the kids in the other car got hurt more than I did, though, so I don't feel so bad for myself."

"Wow," was all Justin could say as he looked at it. They eye seemed completely normal, though when he looked closer, he saw that it was cloudier than his normal eye, and the pupil was faded.

After looking at it for a little longer and then remembering he was being impolite again, Justin exclaimed, "I got a scar in a car crash, too." He lifted up the sleeve of his T-shirt and turned his right shoulder to Harry. A pink scar about five inches long started from the side of his shoulder and down his arm. It wasn't as disabling as Harry's, but it was still a scar.

"How did _that _happen in a _car crash_?" Harry asked. Justin momentarily frowned, but as he noticed the black haired boy looking at him, he forced a smile.

"I can't really remember," he said.

"Oh," said Harry. "It's funny how we both got into major car crashes. I remember the one I was in made the news a few times. Apparently there was a kid in the front seat and he accidentally drove his mother's car into the road." Justin's fake smile vanished.

"R-really?" he asked.

"Yeah," Harry answered with a firm nod. "I didn't hear about what happened to him, but. . .well, I did know there was a death. I heard she was young, too." He paused. "But everyone else was okay." Justin nodded. He wanted to say something, but his throat was caught. _He can't know it was me, _Justin thought. _I almost blinded him. . ._

"So what about your other scar?" Justin asked, pointing to the one on his forehead. "Where did you get that one?" As Harry began speaking about it, Justin tried as hard as he could to calm himself down. Even when he did, though, he felt a lump form in his throat as disappointment overcame him.

_Even if I stop blaming myself for Kendra, now I'm going to have to make it up for Harry, _Justin thought. _He's almost half blind because of me. How could I have forgotten about the people in the other car? I'm at fault for their injuries too. _Justin fought the tears. He couldn't be weak in front of Harry. He managed to listen and make comments to keep the conversation going, but his thoughts continued to take most of his attention. Eventually, he came to a daunting realization:

_No matter where I go, that 'accident' will always haunt me._

* * *

**A/n: I do not own Harry Potter. **

_Notice: I am American. If got something wrong because of that. . .sorry. =)_

_I don't know where this idea came from. I believe I originally thought of writing a one-shot about a muggle-born OC who lost his sister to accidental magic, and then I decided to use an actual character the reason I chose Justin was because on his Wiki page, there is this: _

_"My name was down for Eton, you know. I can't tell you how glad I'm I came here instead. Of course, Mother was slightly disappointed. . ." - Justin Finch-Fletchley, Chamber of Secrets._

_That part definitely inspired the second half. I hope there aren't many mistakes, because this has been proof-read at least five times. Another thing I'd like to mention is that my sister suggested that this be a multi-chapter story, and I was wondering if you thought the same. =)_

_Thank you for reading. _

_-+- The Endless Hourglass, may time be with you. _


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